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Monday, October 29, 2012

I was a
little shocked to read the Central
Health Board Authorityput a policy in
place that says workers have to get a flu shot or face being sent home without
pay if they are sick.

I don't work
for Central Health or in the health care field at all but I do have a huge
problem with this policy.

How far can
an employer go when it comes to what you want or don't want to put in your
body?

I had the
flu shot a few years ago and I was sick every other week for a year. I swore I
would never get it again and I am not! I am in reasonably good health. l take
my vitamins including my vitamin C. My immune system is good. I fight off the
flu at a pretty fast rate although I have had a few that kept me in bed for a
few days. But that's normal.

What's in a
flu shot? According to Google: In a flu shot which is actually a shot and not
the mist there is the dead virus. It is the actual flu that is dead and then
they make it into a shot to administer it into the body in order to help fight
off the actual flu.

So you want
to shoot me up with a dead flu virus so I don't get the flu! Not happening!

The real
question here is how far can an employer go when it comes to your body. Well if
they can force you to be injected with a virus against your will, how about
forcing you to take contraception?

What about
if an employer says, "Well we have a lot of young women on our payroll. I
don't want them all getting pregnant at once so our new policy says all women
of child bearing years cannot get pregnant until they have been with the
company for five years. If you get pregnant without my permission you'll be
fired."

Sounds
ridiculous I know, but is it really? If an employer could stop women from
taking a year off to raise babies would he?

Does an
employer own your body as well as your mind?

How about
telling women if they are allowed to have an abortion? Even after rape? US
Presidential candidate, Republican Mitt Romney, stood behind Indiana Senate
hopeful Richard Mourdock who said pregnancies that result from rape are "something
God intended."

Not my God.
He didn't intend that.

For a long
time politicians with penises have been trying to tell those of us with vaginas
what we are and are not allowed to do with our vaginas.

Those same
politicians with penises make laws that tell us who can touch our vaginas (apparently
only people with penises like them) and who can live in our vaginas (Only straight
babies whether they were a result of consensual or non-consensual sex).

Some people with penises even try to tell us at what age we should stop using our vaginas (older women don't need sex).

People with penises should not be sticking their nose in our vaginas any more than an employer
should be sticking their nose in our immune system!

I'd like to
say it's all too foolish to talk about but is it? Think about it.

You have to
be injected with a virus to keep your job.What stops an employer from making a person sign an agreement saying
they won't get pregnant and take maternity or paternity leave for the first
five years of employment?Where does it
end

Ever since Eve took the apple off the tree people with penises have been debating and making laws telling those of us with
vaginas what we can and can't do with our vaginas for years.

There are no
laws about what people with penises can do or not do with their
penis.

Is it legal
to force an employee to be injected with a virus when they don't want it? I'll
leave that up to the legal experts.

Is it
immoral? Yes. I think so. Our employers may have our minds but our bodies
belong to us.

This is my
body. Don't stick your fingers in my immune system and while you're at it, take
them out of my vagina too!

Monday, October 22, 2012

Remember when you used to have to pay to pee at the mall? The
urge would strike in the middle of Woolco and you would run to the bathrooms at
the back of the store only to find out you didn't have a dime to put in the
door. I guess employees at Woolco got tired of cleaning up pee on the floor and
decided to let you have this basic human need for free.

Smart choice I think. There's some things you shouldn't make
money off. Pee is one. Healthcare is another.

I remember one time when my daughter was about nine, she had
the flu. It got worse by the hour. She was throwing up continuously and
couldn't keep so much as a glass of water down. Her fever shot through the roof
and I decided to take her to the Janeway Children's Hospital. The only reason I
waited was a raging storm was happening outside and I didn't want to drive when
the roads were snow covered and slippery.

I put her in her snowsuit, belted her in the minivan and
made my way to the Janeway slipping and sliding all the way.

When I got to the Janeway parking lot there wasn't a space
available. The lot was full. So I had to park in the Health Science's parking
lot. By the time I found a spot she was sound asleep. I lifted her 90 pound
body in my arms and made my way across the stormy lot like I was walking
through the Arctic tundra. The snow plough had made a four foot high wall of
snow around the lot and I bravely scaled it without dropping my daughter .

By the time I got to the Janeway I looked like a nomad that
had been wandering the ice plains for years. I was exhausted and ready to pass
out myself. After a four hour wait we finally got to see a doctor who confirmed
she had pneumonia and needed antibiotics.

I bundled her back up and made the long track back to the
minivan only to find I had a parking ticket!

A parking ticket!

Steam was coming out of my ears! In my rush to get my sick
child through a storm to see a doctor I forgot to put money in the parking
meter. I was furious. Why the hell should I have to pay this ticket. I wasn't
in shopping. I had a child with pneumonia. A 90 pound child that I had carried
through a snow storm, sat in a waiting room for four hours with and then
carried her back to my van. I should have been given a frigging Olympic medal
for the Mom triathlon! Not a parking ticket.

When I went to leave my van was stuck in the snow. I had to
keep putting it in drive and reverse till I could rock it out of the parking
space. By this time my anger level was at an all time high. I put it in reverse
and floored it. The van jumped out of its tracks and flew back a good two feet,
hitting the meter. I got out to look. The pole was bent a little and the head
of the meter slightly hung down in shame. So I kicked it and said "You
deserved that you bastard!"

Why are there meters in hospital parking lots? Oh, so the
university students don't park there and take up spaces all day. Really?
There's not a better way to monitor that? We found Bin Laden but we can't catch
a poor starving student trying to freeload at the hospital?

Another thing. What's up with the TV rentals. My 85 year old
Mother was in hospital for weeks. Her kidneys are failing, a valve in her heart
is leaking and her body is dying. She loves her soap operas. It would kill her
to die and not know what was happening on Days of Our Lives. So she rented a TV
with basic cable.

$11.50 a day plus tax! That's what they charged this dying
senior on a fixed income! Who the hell is making money off my dying Mother and
her soap operas?

Are you telling me the Department of Health can't negotiate
a better deal than that? That they can't buy cable for the hospital and give it
to patients for free? This is so wrong!

What happens to the people who can't afford to pay $11.50 a
day. They just lay there in bed all day staring out the window. They're forced
to eat hospital food three times a day. Aren't they suffering enough? You're
telling me the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador can't afford free TV for
the sick? Didn't they donate a million dollars to Haiti? What about our poor?

There's an old saying, "You judge a country, in our
case province, by how it treats its most vulnerable, its poor, it sick, its
weak."

There are some things you shouldn't have to pay for in life:
When you want to pee, when you need a parking space at the hospital because
you're sick and a TV when you're hospitalized.

If I have to pay an extra few cents in taxes to cover that,
so be it. A dying woman should not have to miss her soap operas because she's
broke. A nine year old girl with pneumonia shouldn't be given a parking ticket.
A women with a bladder problem shouldn't have to peein her pants because she doesn't have a dime
and governments should not have to be shamed into doing the right thing.

It's 2012. When it comes to healthcare our energy should be
targeted at finding specialists to work in the hospital, not bickering over TV
bills and parking lot slot machines.

Let's use our common sense. Get rid of the meters and ask
Rogers for a good deal on cable.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

A happy marriage is easy to achieve if you know what you're
doing. I discovered early in mine that a pot-roast can greatly improve it.

Hubby never wants anything fancy. His idea of spice is salt
and pepper. He's a meat and potato kind of guy. We take turns cooking. He BBQ's
like a pro and I do my cooking in the kitchen.

Every morning for almost twenty years the first question he
asks in the morning is "What's for supper?" Then he'll call me at
some point during the day, make small-talk and slip in "What's for
supper?" He'll call when he leaves the office to ask how my day was and
ask nonchalantly "What's for supper?"

About ten years into the marriage I started to notice a
pattern. In the morning when he asked "What's for supper?" If I told
him "Spaghetti" He'd be in a bad mood. He'd call during the day and
ask "What's for supper?" and I'd repeat "Spaghetti" and
he'd go on about what a bad day he had. Then he'd call on his way home and ask
"What's for supper?" and I'd say "Spaghetti" and he'd say
how exhausted he was and how he wasn't even that hungry.

Then I noticed when he asked in the morning "What's for
supper?" and I said "Fried cod" he'd be a little happier. He'd
call during the day to ask "What's for supper?" and I'd say
"Fried cod." He'd say his day was ok and we'd hang up. Then he'd call
on his way home and ask "What's for supper?" and I would repeat
"Fried cod."Then he'd say he was tired but hungry.

One morning he asked "What's for supper?" I said
"Pot roast." He jumped out of bed and skipped to the shower. He was
all smiles and jokes and before he left he asked "What kind of pot
roast?" "Pork" I told him. He skipped out to his truck and went
to work. He called me half way through the day and asked "What's for
supper?" "Pork roast" I assured him. He went on and on about how
great his day was and how much he loved his job. Then he called when he left
work and asked "Are we still having pork roast for supper?" He
sounded like a kid asking "Is Santa coming tonight?"

So I decided to experiment on him and started changing
around some variables. In the mornings when asked "What's for
supper?" I'd say "Pot roast." He'd skip to the shower as usual.
Then when he called during the day to ask "What's for supper" I'd say
"Pot roast" then wait a few seconds and say "With salt
meat." I could hear him jumpingup
and down with happiness. Then he'd phone on his way home and ask "How much
salt meat did you put on?" I felt like a dominatrix at this point and say
"The whole bucket." It would take his breath away. I thought he would
pass out with happiness.

Then I'd change it around and say "Chicken."
Chicken just got a yawn and a "OK kind of day" out of him. Pasta
ruined his day completely. Taking out anything for him to BBQ would make him
happy, but nothing had the effect that pot-roast had on him.

Our marriage is into the second decade and I have used three
full bottles of gravy browning making gravy for pot-roasts. I have friends
who's marriage never made it through one full bottle of gravy browning. Maybe
that was the problem.

Over the years I have learned to shake it up a bit. When
he'd call half way through the day I would say "...and I picked up a
chocolate brownie cake at Sobey's for dessert." He run around his office
giving everyone high-fives. Pull the car over on the way home and help elderly
ladies cross the street. He'd be giddy as a school-girl.

Then there would be days when I was pissed at him for
something. I'd take the pot-roast out of the freezer in the morning to thaw.
He'd phone half way through the day and ask "What's for supper?" and
I'd say "McDonalds!" Then he wine and say "But you took out a
pot-roast!" So I'd go in for the kill and say "I am too tired to cook
it." I could hear the let-down in his voice. I'd feel empowered like the
Soup-Nazi" on Seinfeld saying "No pot-roast for you!" The power
would all be mine.

I am thinking of applying for a government grant to do an
actual study on "The affects of pot-roast on men." I think it's a
stupid enough idea to qualify for thousands in grant money. Then I could round
up a room full of husbands and feed them pasta one night, chicken the next,
then pot-roast. I'd get them to fill out "Happiness charts" and
measure their endorphins. I'd become famous and write a book called
"Saving Your Marriage with Pot-Roast!" I'd be on Dr. Phil and
probably get my own reality TV show.

My Mother always said, "The way to a man's heart is
through his stomach." Although my sister Rose says, "The way to a
man's heart is through his stomach then you have to pull up on the knife, go
through the rib-cage and then you'll get to his heart."

It's the simple things that make marriages work. He brings
up my coffee every morning. I cook him a pot-roast. It's all good. It comes
down to trying to figure out what makes each other happy.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Fall is in the air and hubby says it's time to put the
Goldwing in storage for the winter. He is going to start winterizing it this
week. It made me think back to a couple of Falls ago when I drove a mini-van
that I could never park properly.

Our house is on a corner lot. There is a one car driveway in
the front of the house where the garage is, which is mine and a two car
driveway on the side, which is for hubby's toys.

One Saturday I left with our daughter to go to her dance
classes and hubby stayed home to winterize the Goldwing so he could store it
for the winter.

After dancing for two hours and trying to recover from a
birthday party sleep-over, my daughter was not in a good mood to say the least.
She was cranky, tired and just hard to handle. By the time I got back home she
was having a complete melt down and looked like the Exorcist in the back seat.
I was trying to back into the driveway while looking into my side-mirrors to
make sure I was staying on the asphalt. At the same time I was trying to keep
an eye on Linda Blair in the back seat to make sure her head wasn't doing a
complete 360.

Then I heard a "Bang!"

I looked in the rear-view mirror but couldn't see anything.
I looked in the side-view mirrors and couldn't see anything. I was too far away
from the garage door to hit it. So I put the van in park and jumped out.

There laying wounded on the driveway was hubby's pride and
joy, his only reason for living, his prized Goldwing. Lying on its side...
softly crying.

I knew I was going to be killed. I had to think fast.

I pulled the mini-van out of the driveway and parked it on
the street. I got the Exorcist out of the back and dragged her in the house
kicking and screaming. I called out to hubby but he didn't answer. So I ran
upstairs looking for him. By the time I got to our bedroom I could hear him in
the driveway cursing and swearing. I ran back downstairs and out to the
driveway. Before I could say "Sorry" he looked at me and said "I
am going to kill that cat!"

"The Cat?" What did the cat have to do with
anything?

He saw the question marks in my eyes that were holding back
the flood of tears that I was getting ready to spill while I begged for
forgiveness.

"That God damn cat knocked over my bike. I went to the
basement to get something and when I came back the cat was sitting on the bike.
She must have jumped from the porch roof." He stood there scratching his
head looking from the porch roof to the bike.

"The cat! Yes that damn cat" I agreed with him. I
was a woman on death row if I had to sell-out the cat then so be it. "I've
always hated that cat!"

"Help me pick it up" he asked. So I did my wifely
duty and helped him put the bike up right. The tail light was broke and there
was a big black scratch from the asphalt. "There's no damage at all"
I lied. He was pissed. I tip-toed back into the house where I knew I'd be safer
with the Exorcist.

Now, hubby is a retired police officer and a damn good one
at that. He spent many years at accident scenes and was considered an expert
witness in a court room. So it didn't take long for his police gut feelings to
kick in.

About 20 minutes later I had calmed the Exorcist down and
let her have a nap. I was enjoying a cup of tea while watching TV when hubby
comes back into the house. He calmly sat in his armchair and said, "You
know that cat is only about ten pounds." Immediately my brain said
"Dead Woman Walking!" I had to think quick. "Nooooo. She must be
handy on thirty pounds. You should see what she eats. She looks like a seal
with legs." He quietly nods his head and answers "Even at thirty
pounds. If she was propelled from a rocket launcher at a 1000 pound motorcycle,
she still wouldn't knock it over."

"It was probably one of those perfect storms" I
was drowning here "When the cat jumped from the roof and the wind was at a
perfect speed and the bike was at the perfect angle. You know like one of those
freak accidents."

"Or" he says "Like when someone backs their
mini-van into the driveway without looking in the rear-view mirror to make sure
there's nothing there first." Dead woman walking! Dead woman walking!

"Who would do that and not tell us?" I asked
shocked. "Well maybe it was someone with my bike paint on their rear
bumper" he answered. I knew he had me. My only hope was to throw myself on
the mercy of the court and to turn it around and make him believe it was his
fault.

"Well you shouldn't have parked it in my driveway. You
know I can't park on the best of days. This is your fault."

He calmly got up and said, "I am going to Canadian Tire
to buy a tail-light for my bike. It's in the front driveway. Try not to kill it
the next time you park the van." Then he left.

I watched him walk away thinking this is a trap. He has
booby-trapped the house to blow up when he gets to the bottom of the street. Or
maybe he cut the break-lines on my van. Or maybe cut the heals off my favourite
stilettos. There has to be retaliation for this.

I've been waiting two years. Still nothing. Whenever he
mentions putting the bike away for the winter I start sleeping with one eye
open. I know it's coming.

Maybe revenge is best when it's served cold, but does it
have to be moldy too?

I am Funny Like That

Helen C. Escott retired from the world renowned Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) in 2014 as the Senior Communications Strategist for Newfoundland and Labrador. Before joining the RCMP she worked in the media for 13 years (OZ FM/ VOCM/ CJYQ) in various positions including reporter, on-air personality, marketing and promotions.

In Retirement, Escott writes a blog called “I am Funny Like That” and has over 123,000 readers worldwide. Now this hysterical blog has come to life a witty book! It ranked on Amazon’s bestsellers list as #6 in Kindle Store and #20 in Books.

Escott has a unique perspective on life and a funny way of looking at it. From wearing granny panties to Brazilians to capturing the essence of a moment in a person’s life. Escott will make you laugh out loud and feel better about yourself. She is the best friend you have always wanted and the life of the party. You will be glad you invited her into your life.

If you have thrown your back out taking off Spanx, planned your husband's murder in your head or screamed through a Brazilian, this book is for you.

If you need a good laugh, or need to smile, this book is better than Prozac it will make you laugh out loud for days after reading it. 123,000 blog readers can't be wrong! Join in the laughter.